


With You Every Second

by Jehilew



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, I hate how Kiotr shippers got trolled though, Morning After, REMY STOLE A MOTHERFUCKIN' WEDDING, ROMY GOT HITCHED!!, Wedding Night, rehearsal dinner, stolen wedding, x-men gold #30
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehilew/pseuds/Jehilew
Summary: A ficlet spun off that fabulous surprise that was X-Men Gold #30!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So a quick thing I'm writing up while everyone is still high on X-Men Gold 30! This is going off that panel at the rehearsal, where Remy is talking about how all 'this wedding stuff is making me thing romantic thoughts'. When I first saw the preview of that moment, it'd stuck with me. I'd known then and there that he was for sure going to propose eventually (though I was surprised at how quickly that happened!). There's going to be more chapters to this, one about the wedding, the next, a sweet wedding night, and possibly a really sweet morning after, so keep your eyes peeled!
> 
> Also, I did deviate from Rogue's rehearsal dinner outfit. I'm a big fan of menswear styles, power suits, and the like on women. Sexy as fuck if well done. But hell no, she wouldn't wear a blazer to a rehearsal dinner. No, she would not. So, I dressed her for this;) If you tumblr, you can see the dress. If you don't, go look up Are You Am I it's the Anke dress in black. Do it. That dress is seriously hot.

Remy leans back against the bar, takes a sip off his drink, and looks out at all the happy party-goers.

More like, he's got his eyes trained on one party-goer, in particular.

She's laughing at something Stormy said, her head tilted back, her sound loud enough he can hear it over the din. She catches him watching from the corner of her eye and flushes, shoves a white curl behind her ear, and smiles at him before turning back to her friends, and he feels his chest tighten as his heart blows up.

Rogue to all, Anna-Marie to a few, and his undisputed once-in-lifetime kind of love.

And _goddamn_ , does he love her. That's been a thing since near the first time he'd laid eyes on her that night on Muir Island. She'd sassed him, excited him, whooped his ass, and then yanked him up into a kiss to make his eyes roll up clear to the back of his head.

And now? Well. It's been a few years, some incredible highs and several more heart-breaking lows, and a break-through mission since that night, and look at them now. A little over a month after Paraiso, and going strong.

He sips his drink again, and continues watching her as he considers that. _Strong_. And different. This time is for keeps. That's been the _feel_ between them this go around, even from the moment he'd first kissed her in Paraiso. A feel of his own, and one he's picked up off of her, and a feel reflected in every old wall busted down, every old insecurity resurfaced and dealt with (some, over and over, especially in the very beginning), every old hurt popped up and hashed away...

That line of thinking inevitably turns him along a thought that's been cropping up of late— making it permanent. Making them a solid, done deal.

A notion he'd honestly never thought he'd _ever_ consider again. Not after the complete shitshow of his marriage to Belle, and definitely not after the utterly devastating and disgusting shitshow he'd lived after. He'd spent the first three-quarters of his life ruining everything he'd touched, and the last quarter of it head over heels, stupid in love with a woman he was terrified of really trying for ruining that— _her—_ too.

Honestly, it's not like he hadn't made a decent head-way in doing just that, anyway. Omissions, implied truths, admitted half truths, out-right lies, all to protect a few crippling secrets...

No wonder she'd skittered off and got away for so long. He'd killed her trust and thoroughly fried her self esteem, all in a matter two kisses.

Granted, leaving him in Antarctica had been a painfully harsh consequence to pay, and then later, running straight into the arms and bed of the very man who had brought it all on had been an even more painful stab at him, there certainly is that.

That, among so many other hurts they'd inflicted on each other.

As it is, all the worst of beasts between them have already been poked at and bested, all finally water under the bridge. And it feels good. _Freeing._

Freeing enough to consider a few things impossible to consider before.

It isn't hurting at all that he's been practically breathing Kitty and Piotr wedding fumes nearly everyday since they'd returned.

"Swear it, shit's in the air I breathe, and the water I drink," he mutters with a small laugh, eyeing the ice in his whiskey as if suspect.

Except nah, he'd felt it first back on that island. The night of the big showdown with the golems, when Rogue had been lit up and hunched over from everyone's baggage, shaking to pieces from it all. When she'd told him she was barely hanging on, and he'd realized he was always going to be there. Even for the ugly parts.

 _"I'll stay wit' you every second."_ He'd told her. _"Always."_

He hadn't heard any wedding bells in that moment. The situation had been a little too _oh shit!_ for that to occur to him. But the intent had been there. It'd been behind his promise to her then, too.

At any rate, whenever the actual thought to pop the question had first happened, here he is, at someone else's wedding rehearsal, watching the love of his life look over Rachel's shoulder to smile at him and break away from the group, thinking maybe a trip to the jeweler's might be in his near future.

He grins at her as she approaches, his vision flashing red as his heart rate doubles up. Because fuck him sideways to Sunday, she's beautiful. Fascinating. Always has been, and it's looking a whole lot like to him, she always will be.

Especially when she's dolled up like she is tonight, in that little black number that's been putting a twitch his dick all evening long. He eyeballs that low, squared up neckline pushing her tits up to her chin, and thinks about how he'd like to drag her off to the closest lonely spot, and nail her so hard, they pop right out into his hands.

He'd already tried it just before they'd come up earlier, back at his place, thinking they had _plenty_ of time for a quickie. Hell, they'd even arrived at Harry's _early._ (He'd tried then, too.) She'd laughed him off and batted his hands away, informing him in no uncertain terms that he absolutely was _not_ ruining this dress. Or her hair.

 _"You're a grown-ass, civilized man, Remy LeBeau. You can wait til we get back to the mansion. Where you will_ not _tear my dress off, for a change,"_ she'd snorted at his dismayed expression, and slapped his ass with a flirty tug of her lip through her teeth before leaving him where he'd stood to go visit with Stormy and Jean.

His smile widens at the memory, and at the incredible woman who'd made it currently stepping right up into his space to greet him with a fast kiss on the mouth. He's come to learn that she's like that— likes to pretend she hates it when he ruins a made up look on her. The night's still young, though, and with the looks she keeps throwing at him—

"Hey, sugar," Anna blinds him with a smile, pulling back just as he feels the first pinch of her mutation, spinning a slight whirl and tilt to his world from the little 'sip' she'd gotten off him just now.

"Whoa there, you okay?" She asks softly, a gloved hand cupping his jaw, concern tightening her voice and stressing the New York tinge in her drawl. Despite working around her power as much as possible over the past month, and learning that fast touches are generally harmless, she's still terrified of hurting him, or worse. He can't blame her, but he's definitely of no mind to discourage her in any way, either.

Remy turns his face into the palm of her hand and kisses it. "I'm jus' fine, beb," he murmurs, reaching an arm around her hip, pulling her in snug for a lightening-quick smooch right over her ear.

No pull that time, and grinning split ear to ear, he kisses her again. And again, and again, and again, all the way across her cheek to her mouth, each kiss broken off as fast as it'd begun.

Anna relaxes and leans into those kisses, closed, a half smile on her lips. _Always so responsive_. One of hundreds of little things about her that makes him completely stupid about her.

"Mmm, someone's affectionate tonight," she hums at him, her eyelids heavy to slits over those incredible eyes, making him shift just a bit more toward her, gaze hungry on the soft dip of her cleavage.

" _Very_ affectionate, chere," Remy agrees whole heartedly, hand sliding down over hip to her backside, fingers digging in—

"My lord, Remy," she giggles up at him, "such an unreal Cajun rat, ain't you? Think you can behave yourself for minute while I get a drink?" She reaches up on her toes for a kiss, and moves to his side, turning to the owner of the establishment with a brilliant smile. "Evenin', Harry, how you been, sugar?"

Remy drops his hand off her hip to lean on the bar, and she presses her front into his arm, her hand slipping over his abdomen as she charms and flirts with old Harry while he gets her drink (Captain and Coke. Her favorite, except when it comes to _his_ whiskey sours). He watches her play with the buttons of his shirt, fingers slipping in between them to caress him for a moment, then pulling back out to do the same over the fabric.

 _Beautiful, fascinating, amazing, incredible, absolutely stunning woman_...

"This's one helluva shindig, huh, Cajun?" She sighs happily, turning back around to lean against him, eyes on the crowd as she grabs his hand and pulls his arm up around her shoulders.

"Mmm-hm," Remy agrees, eyes up at her face now, "it is." He laces fingers through hers and rubs his thumb along her knuckles. Christ, she's all sweet and relaxed into him right now, her mood warm, the feelings he's picking off of her are soft, and he thinks maybe his chest is too small all of a sudden, because why else would it feel like his heart's squeezing up clear to his mouth— "don' know about you, but all this wedding excitement's got me thinkin' some real romantic thoughts, Anna-Marie."

She lays her head back on his shoulder and _pfffts_ at him. "More like all you're thinkin' about is honeymoons. Or rather, the main activities happening on honeymoons." She twists back and drops a kiss on his chest. "I just seen what was in your head, Remy, with that little zap I gotcha with."

He pops up a brow, because _little does she know..._

Thank whatever god's up there he'd had his thoughts in the gutter before she'd nipped off of him with that kiss...

"Well, if you saw some of what I was thinkin'..." He seizes _that_ in as he drops to a whisper right over ear, giving her a thoroughly graphic description to go along with the imagery she'd plucked out of his head, and hopefully completely distracting her whatever extra _whisp_ she might've gotten from him.

She squirms, shifts, and squeezes her thighs together, flushing clear down into that neckline that's been driving him out of his damn mind all night. "My heavens, Remy, you've been actin' all night like you ain't gotten any dang near every night this past month," she huffs up at him in a mix of laughter and exasperation.

Sensing a deep swell of _want_ going along with all that 'scolding', he flashes his teeth and that stupid dimple he knows she melts over. "Mais, yeah, and you been actin' all night like you didn't wear that dress _just_ for me—"

"—Mmm-hm, I kinda did, and you know what, Remy?" She cuts him off, darting a furtive look around the room to make sure no one is watching, then slinks out of her panties quick as you please and stuffs them in his hand. "I think I'mma need you to hold onto these for me while I'm in the ladies' room," she teases him with a wink, reaching up on her toes to continue in a thick purr by his ear, "and sugar-pie, _do_ mind yourself, 'cause I swear to Jesus, you tear up my dress, you ain't gettin' laid again til its replacement is hangin' pretty in my closet. And don't you _dare_ touch the hair."

And with that, before he can snatch her back for a quick kiss, she swerves out with a sultry smirk and sashays off toward the bathrooms.

"God _damn_ ," he laughs a bit breathlessly to himself, eyes burning hot as sets his unfinished drink next to hers and shoves her panties in his back pocket, "I jus' _might_ hafta wife that little hellcat after all."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I got this posted in time! Two more chapters to go, and then I'm back nose to the grindstone on She's:)
> 
> Many thanks to Ludi for making sure this doesn't look stupid- love ya, lady!
> 
> Enjoy:)

"Welcome. I'm privileged to welcome Katherine and Piotr in this most sacred of covenants."

Rogue shifts more comfortably in her seat at the rabbi's words, instinctively moving closer to the man sitting next to her. She won't admit it to a soul, but happy as she is watching the soon-to-be married couple at the altar, she's actually more excited about the fact that she's watching it with _him_. Remy. Now. With things as they are between them.

She flicks a shy glance over at him. He catches it out the corner of his eye, and a smile quirks up his mouth as he reaches over for her hand, pulling it into his lap.

Positively _giddy_ , is what she is. Which is silly, considering this isn't the first wedding they've attended.

It _is_ the first one they've attended together, though. And with the way things have been this time, some of the things he's said, the way he looks at her sometimes, makes her think, _maybe_ —

She flushes away from that thought (an impossible one, anyway, she has no reason to think _anything_ ) and looks back to the ceremony as the rabbi continues. "Their love is very much like their hearts. Strong. Beautiful. And pure of spirit. It's that love that has sustained them and returned them to each other's arms..."

She smiles at those words, and feels her heart flutter to pieces all over again, because Lord help her, that sounds so much like her and Remy—!

And if Kitty and Piotr's relationship mirrors theirs in so many ways, and they're here now, literally about to ride off into the sunset?

_Maybe_ she and Remy really can make it, too, right?

She bites her lip in a smile and her heart kicks up at least ten notches as Remy's fingers tighten in hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles.

_Pitter-patter, pitter-patter_...

"I'm pleased to say," the rabbi goes on, the humor in her tone pulling Rogue's head back out of the clouds, "that Mr. Wagner _does_ have the rings..."

The crowd titters and Rogue chuckles as Kurt pops a brow and grins good-naturedly as he hands over the rings.

"Katherine, please place the ring on a Piotr's finger, and repeat after me. I will love and cherish you for all my days."

Rogue watches Kitty slip the ring on as told, repeating her vows, and she feels her eyes watering up. Weddings always do that to her, turn her into a watering pot, and honestly, those two really do deserve the best, and then there's the fact that they parallel her and Remy so much—

Remy brings the back of her hand up for a kiss, holding it there for a moment as he squeezes her fingers, then drops to his lap.

Rogue curls her fingers around his, smiling even harder as she keeps wet eyes on Kitty and Piotr. Because if she looks over at him, she really _will_ cry.

Really, between the events of late, and Remy saying things like he had last night, at the rehearsal party, about how the wedding was making him think things, too, who can blame her for being a _tad_ emotional right now?

"Piotr, please place the ring on Kitty's finger, and repeat after me," the rabbi continues, and Piotr takes Kitty's hand, ring ready, already saying his vows—

The next instant has the guests gasping, Remy softly hissing " _ohhhhh_ , fuck," and Rogue utterly stunned.

Speechless. Voice, breath, heartbeat, all of it stuck in her throat, gaping at the frozen ceremony.

Kitty stands rooted to her spot, eyes wide and staring at her hand still phased through Piotr's, looking for the world like she can't believe what had just happened anymoreso than anyone else. Then she pulls back, drops her face in her hands and phases through the ground, leaving only her veil and her jilted groom behind.

Rogue swallows tears down while looking to Piotr as he woodenly picks up the veil, clenches it in his hands, and asks Kurt to get him gone.

Lord have mercy, the look on that poor man's face...

She looks over at Remy and pulls his hand to her lap, clapping her other hand on top and squeezing, remembering the same sort of stiffness she'd put in him so many times.

"Christ...did what I think happened really jus' happen?" Remy breathes out, turning stunned, shadowed eyes at her.

Rogue's eyes flood and she flattens her lips, simultaneously stifling a blotchy-faced cry and the urge to climb all over his lap and kiss the snot out of him, because a couple of those times, she'd left _him_...

Instead, she slumps a little, looks back to the cloud of smoke and fluttering veil and petals where Kurt and Piotr had just stood, and slowly nods, clenching his hand tighter. _So much for sunsets_...

"Yeah, sugar, it just did."

* * *

_A while later, in the reception tent..._

Remy shifts back in his seat and stretches out a leg, eyes sweeping across the quiet, uncomfortable crowd before settling back at the bar.

Anna's there, talking to a stricken Illyana. He has a little of an idea why the young blonde is so slouched with guilt, that girl's been uncharacteristically subdued since last night, and Kitty had been the same. And honestly, with the feel coming off Kitty over the last couple of days, it wouldn't have taken much out of Illyana to send her into a tailspin.

Of course, he hadn't payed them much of a mind, as in his own head over Anna as he'd been all evening. And well after, while she'd been a sprawled out, drooling heap in the sheets across his chest, his head spinning one way while his eyes had spun the other from their second round and yet another little absorption.

The corner of his mouth pops up at the memory. He'd ended last night a bit tipsy, and hadn't been as careful as usual, both alcohol and heart making him sloppy. She hadn't been much better, only giggling and shoving him over on his back after the second time she'd zapped his fingers. Or maybe it'd been his mouth that time, he can't remember. Either way, love turns him into an idiot, drink certainly doesn't make him smarter, because she'd gotten him a couple more times after that, and he's damned lucky she hadn't plucked up anything serious.

Or maybe she _had_. Because Christ above him, she'd been so damn soft during the ceremony, riddled with a shy, maybe hopeful excitement, and it'd only reinforced where his thoughts have headed of late, and then...

Then, Kitty had left Piotr cold at the altar. Let his hand and the ring phase right through her, and then she'd dropped clean through the ground. And Anna, she was...

Well, he's not entirely certain what was on her mind. She'd been too keyed up, and has too many psyches guesting in her head, churning her emotions into a whip he couldn't quite get a catch on. She's been a whirlwind since, and he's long learned that _that_ could turn her for the worse.

He shakes his head, eyes closing, then flicking back open at Anna again. "I seen that shit go down, an' I still don't believe it."

"Ja, most unexpected," Kurt murmurs next to him, his expression sympathetic toward the former bride and groom moving about the tent to speak with everyone. "And heartbreaking."

Remy nods, though he supposes it maybe wasn't so unexpected. Kitty had been looking some kind of way the whole lead-up to the wedding, and it hadn't been the happy look of a blushing bride about to get hitched.

"Yes, and perhaps fortunate," Stormy adds evenly, though not unkindly.

Remy throws her a sharp look. "Not sure y' using that word right, Stormy. I doubt Pete's seein' it that way at all, no?"

Christ, if Rogue ever did the like to him, he sure as shit wouldn't see it that way, _fortunate_.

Though technically, Rogue's already done that a few times. Gotten scared, unsure, shoved him away, ditched him, ran off...

He knows if it happens again, that's it. This is their last shot. They won't come back from more of the same-old, same-old. And fuck him anyway, he _wants_ , but not at the risk of messing it up, going too fast, because what he's thinking _is_ maybe too fast, they're still new, he could easily stand to wait it out, or even leave things alone.

Hell, it's not like they hadn't just watched a parallel turn out horribly bad after an impulsive rush or anyth—

"I simply mean if things aren't meant to work out between Kitty and Peter, it is better they realize it tonight, rather than years from now."

Remy stops at his friend's words, feeling like a shift that's just...sort of...clicking into place.

_It is better they realize it tonight_...

Better to know now, than say, one, two, three years down the road—

"Marriage is hard," she continues, "it requires a need, a hunger..."

—and holy _shit_ , he wants her, lock, stock, and barrel, any way he can get her, wants it so bad, his stupid teeth hurt-

"...a feeling like you'd rather not go on living than spend a day apart."

"Right," he mutters, staring down at his hands, his mind going back to how things were going into Paraiso, with her being _right_ _there_ , yet still without her. Loving her anyway with every ounce of his soul, every pull of his breath, every thud in his chest. He remembers the worse times from earlier still, when he hadn't even had that, her being around, when they weren't even really speaking, not even _friends_. How it'd felt like heartbreak all over again anytime he'd been reminded of her, and the loss of everything between them.

He digs into the good times, too, how hyper-aware of her presence in a room he'd been (still is), the way his pulse had jumped and raced when they'd met eyes across the distance (still does). The real moments, when they'd sat on the roof, sometimes in complete silence, other times in light hearted flirtation, and still others where they'd taken turns cracking each other open, bit by reluctant, angsty bit, and had gone back inside just a bit more connected (still do). The up-times, too, when they had tried, and it'd been so good, _so fucking good_ , it can _still_ make his toes curl up and his insides fire up sweet to recall how he'd felt with her all those times (still does).

_Feeling like you'd rather not go on living than spend a day apart_...

"You're absolutely right," he says again, his heart crashing into his ribs, his breath snatched tight in his chest, that all-too-familiar thrill in a high stakes, all or nothing play swelling up in him.

"Mein freund?"

Remy looks at Kurt and flashes his teeth. "It ain't a thing', mon ami." He stands, straightens his tie, eyes already back on his Anna-Marie, feet already headed where his heart has been since the day he'd met her, a head rush chased by a wave of calm flooding him toe to tip all the while. "Jus' that Stormy's absolutely right, as per usual. I'd rather not go on livin' than spend another day apart from her."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"No, Rogue, you don't _get_ _it_. This is all my fault."

Rogue pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in soft sigh as she squeezes Illyana's shoulder. "Shug, look. Whatever it is you said that you think is so dang bad, this ain't your fault. And while it hurts, it ain't a _wrong_ thing that happened. Better than followin' through when you got questions and doubts, huh?"

The other woman shrugs, sips off her drink, and turns to Rogue with a weak smile. "You would know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?" She waves off before Rogue can fire back in reply. "Is not important. You and Remy, you are past that, yes? You are good?" She nods to herself and continues, "thank all of your blessings for that. I am happy for you."

Rogue blinks away sudden tears at the younger woman's words. Because yes, _absolutely_ yes, she knows all too well what it's like to try time and again without answering the questions and shying away from the doubts like they don't exist. It'd lead to nothing but broken hearts on both her end, and Remy's.

Thank her blessings, indeed!

And...as selfish as it is, thank _everything_ that Kitty had seen fit to send her and Remy for couples' therapy in Paraiso instead of going herself with Piotr. Otherwise, today might be a _very_ different day, indeed, and likely not one tilted in Rogue's favor.

Illyana leans over, a smirk on her mouth. "And in my experience, when you speak of devils, they almost always arrive." She flicks a look over her shoulder and moves away.

Rogue turns, a wide smile ready, because who else could Illyana have been talking about if not Remy, and honestly, she could use a good minute alone with him, in fact, she's thinking a drag off to the closest private spot would be nice, a little bit of spoiling her Cajun—

The look on his face as he approaches, eyes burning, his features set _intense_ , it crashes her train of thought and steals her breath clean out of her lungs.

_God help her, he's stunning_.

Not just in looks, but in...well...everything. And when he's like this, looking at her like she's the only thing he sees, the only thing he wants...

Well. He always has been one to swoon over.

"Remy?" She calls softly, reaching out for him, "you okay?"

He turns up a little lopsided smile as he grasps her hand and gently pulls away from the bar. "Well now, that depends, chere."

Her brows pinch a little in confusion, but she follows him out on the floor. "Depends on what, sug— _wait_..what? What are you—? _Oh my god_ ," she breathes as he swiftly drops to one knee, still holding her hand, those beautiful eyes blazing.

"What's it look like, beb?" He asks, his deep, rich accent like a long, sweet lick up her spine.

" _Oh my god_ ," she breathes again, the room, the people in it, and all the noises fading to nothing but him...because he's...he's... _is he doing what she thinks he's doing—_ yes, yes, _yes_ , he is...he's on his knee—"Remy, are you—? This...this is crazy!"

"Mmm-hm, you met me yet?"

She gasps out a short, breathless laugh, her heart going ninety to nothing, and she's feeling just a bit light-headed, and—

"But what ain't crazy, Anna-Marie, is we got all our friends right here, someone to marry us, and a wedding canopy right over there."

—and...and...this is all so _fast_...and she _wants_ , wants _so bad_ , but what about hurt feelings, Kitty and Piotr—

"He's right, you know," an amused voice cuts, and Rogue turns dazed eyes to find the former bride and groom approaching.

"Don't let this evening go to waste," Kitty continues, a warm, genuine smile on her face.

Rogue looks back to Remy with a fast smile on her face. "Are y-you sure, Kitts?" She stutters out softly, eyes never leaving Remy's, "I mean, I _want—_ " she flushes, her mouth not cooperating around words, and—

" _Pfft_!" Kitty replies, and Rogue can swear she hears her rolls her eyes. "Go on. Don't mind us. We're _fine_."

Rogue stares down at Remy, the world simultaneously feeling like it has stopped and is spinning too fast, her heart thundering in her ears, and bless him, he's still and even, his heart plastered all over his face, fire-bright in his eyes...

It hits her. This is real. This is him, and this is her, and this is _it_.

A small, giddy laugh bubbles up out of her mouth, her vision blurs wet, and it's only then she realizes that's she's smiling so hard, her cheeks are screaming. "I can't believe you're doin' this," she squeaks out, and gasps on another laugh, "but I couldn't be happier for it."

His eyes flare up and he squeezes her fingers, runs his thumb over her knuckles, and she can't help it, she goes down on his level, because she _has_ to kiss him, just once, or twice, maybe ten times...

"Chere, what're you doin'?" He laughs low and soft against a rain of split-second kisses across his mouth.

"What's it look like I'm doin', Cajun?" She asks, nipping at his lower lip, "I'm sayin' _yes_!"

* * *

_A short while later..._

"Never thought I would see the day, Remy."

Remy snorts at Stormy's knowing smile as she fixes his tie and straightens his appearance in general. "That so, padnat? Y' mean to tell me you didn't have this shit called from day one?"

"Remy! Be _still_ ," Laura hisses at him from behind, deftly running her claws through his hair for a trim. He hadn't particularly _wanted_ a haircut, but when one has her majesties Ororo Munroe and Laura McKinney _insisting_...

Like he'd ever tell those two _no._ They can do as they will with him.

Stormy's grin broadens and she cups his cheek. "I told you no such thing, my friend." Her thumb swipes gently over his cheekbone. "I quite literally meant I didn't think I'd _see_ it, the day you married so big. I'd have thought the two of you would go to the courthouse rather than do _this_ ," she adds with a graceful sweep of her other hand toward the canopy.

"Heh, me neither," Remy concedes. He'd already done the big wedding once, and that'd been about a nightmare and a half. He'd never wanted to do that mess again.

Of course, him figuring on remarrying had only been a recent thing, too. And even then, he hadn't planned on doing it this soon.

"Hmmm," Stormy hums at him, adjusting his scarf one last time.

He pauses a moment, lets her fuss over him a bit more, then asks, "stand up there wit' me, eh, Stormy?"

"I'd like to see someone try stopping me," she replies evenly, patting his shoulders. "All done. Just needs a little something-"

"How's this?" Gabby appears seemingly from no where, her little face split with the widest of smiles as she holds a single, pink rose boutonnière.

"Perfect, Gabby, thank you," Stormy murmurs indulgently, plucking the flower from the girl's hand and pinning it to Remy's lapel.

"Hmmm, we done yet?" Remy asks impatiently, looking out at the crowd to see if he can spot Anna anywhere. He's not sure where she'd gone, it'd been a hell of a whirlwind after she'd said yes, with Bobby and Kurt popping up to bamf her off for parts unknown while Stormy and Laura whisked him off to the side to 'fix him up'.

He needs all the damn fixing in the world, but none of it's a thing his friends can do anything about. And for some damn reason or another, Anna still wants to marry his sorry ass, and he still can't _quite_ believe it-

" _Ouw!_ God _dammit_ ," he yelps, reaching for the back of his head as the sharp edges of Laura's claws graze his scalp.

"Would you _quit_ squirming?" Laura snaps at him again, slapping his hand away to examine the scratch, "I've never seen you this anxious before," she continues in a softer tone, "if you'd like, I can stab you, give you something else to focus on? Especially since you seem bent on-"

"Non, 'tite chere," Remy cuts her off, "think I'll pass on that one. But since you takin' such good care of this ol' boy, maybe you stand up there wit' me, too?"

She nods solemnly and sheaths her claws, her green eyes twinkling despite her perpetually serious expression. "Like begets like, Remy LeBeau. You've seen to me, so it's only fair I do the same for you?"

Remy grins at her and reaches out to pull her in a hug. She snorts up at him, circles his waist in a brief, tight squeeze, then pushes back with a lifted brow and one last critical glance at the back of his head.

"Gambit?"

Remy looks over the other direction to see Bling walking up with Bishop, her face lit up with not at all suppressed excitement.

"So, I had this idea," she runs on, "I mean, I'm assuming you guys don't have rings, and I was just thinking that maybe I could help with that?"

Remy grins down at the girl's hopeful expression, because holy shit, it's all coming together, and this really _is_ happening... "That'd be absolutely perfect, chere, absolutely perfect."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Rogue stands in the middle of her room, alone, pulling in deep breaths, trying to get a real grasp on the fact that something she'd _never_ thought she'd have _is happening._

_Right now._

_She's getting married._

To _him_. Remy LeBeau.

The thought shivers up another giggle out her throat, and she quickly shakes out her trembling hands.

He's down there somewhere with Ro and Laura, getting a spit-shine, while she's up here, about to fidget out of her skin, waiting on Bobby and Kurt to return.

That two men had thought to go find all the wedding somethings blue, new, old, and borrowed for _her_ , and on such short notice, almost makes her tear up again.

"Ah, shit, can't have that," she laughs at herself, shaking her head. That'll run her mascara, because she's the moron who had passed on the waterproof stuff for less clumpy lashes.

Pulling in a deep breath through her nose, Rogue smooths down her dress, and laughs again. Back when she was young, she'd always thought she'd go all traditional if she did get hitched, and wear white, and maybe marry up with an equally traditional, handsome, all-American blonde, someone like Cody. As she'd gotten older, she'd imagined a romantic elopement with a more worldly, sophisticated version of that man, and maybe wear a pale yellow, or a soft gold instead of white.

She'd gotten a bit older, and wrote herself out that future entirely, not even seeing the point in entertaining the notion.

And look at her now.

An unexpected bride at someone else's wedding, hitching up with an utterly mouthwatering, devil-eyed, back-woods Cajun rat, wearing green, her dang _fighting_ color.

It's nothing at all what she'd ever day-dreamed up, and somehow, it's absolutely _perfe—_

"Hey, Rogue, I got you a lil' sump-sump," Bobby cheerfully barges in and startles her out of her thoughts.

Rogue nods quickly, tears threatening _again._ "Whatcha got, shug?"

"Something old, borrowed, _and_ blue, all in one," he practically crows, boyish good looks lit up with sparking blue eyes and a brilliant grin. "Efficiency at its _finest_ , Annie, courtesy of one Elizabeth Braddock," he adds with a flourish of his hand, revealing a pair of gold antique chandelier earrings set with fat, twinkling aquamarines.

"I don't think efficiency belongs in the somethings' tradition, but good lord, these are _gorgeous_ ," she murmurs, eyeing up the earrings. "I swear it, though, you call me Annie again, _Booby,_ and I'll—"

"— _oh god..._ Jesus Christ—" Bobby cuts her off in loud protest as the stench of whatever dimension Kurt rips through to get anywhere bamfs throughout the room.

"Anna-Marie, I have a something borrowed for you," Kurt announces dead center within the curling rotten-egg-farts smell, holding out a handful of balled up tulle.

Rogue takes the crushed material, straightening it out to reveal Kitty's now-stinky veil. "Awwww, Kurt, it's—"

"—I know it is Kitty's veil," Kurt rushes at the same time, his expression a bit apologetic, "but I—"

"No, no, Kurt, it's beautiful, _thank_ _you_ ," Rogue insists, dashing at her eyes again, because dammit, she's absolutely _ridiculous_ , how much she's crying right now... "Besides, seems fittin', seeing as how Kitts' had so much hand in what all's happening today."

"Ja, so it does!" Kurt's face splits ear to ear in relief, and Rogue grabs him in a hug and squeezes _tight_.

"Best older brother a gal could ask for, shug," she sniffs and kisses his furry cheek.

" _Hey_! You were supposed to get her something _new_ ," Bobby cuts in with dramatic mock outrage, "seriously, little blue dude, you were assigned _new_. Good thing I got you covered with my _efficiency_ ," a look thrown at Rogue, "'cause it could be argued that the earrings are something new, too, 'cause new to _you_ , so _I_ should be getting the hugs, 'cause I did my thing, your thing, _and_ _then some_ , and therefore am the best brother here, so if you could just stay in your lane—"

"Oh, quit whinin', Bobert," Rogue snorts, rolls her eyes, and damn near snatches him off his feet into a group hug. "Both y'all the _very_ best. Wouldn't have asked you to be bridesmen if you weren't."

"Yeah, yeah, good save, Hannah. And quit your crying, your face is melting off," Bobby shoots back, smacks a fast kiss on the side of her head, then holds up the earrings. "We're supposed to be fixing you up, so why don't we get on that?"

Rogue fidgets only a little as Bobby fumbles around a bit putting on the jewelry "like a good bridesmaid _should_ ," he'd insisted while slapping her hands away when she'd reached for them to do it herself.

Kurt, bless his heart, picks up the veil and puts it her hair, cursing a streak bluer than his hide when he slides it in lopsided and loosens a few of her more stubborn cow-licked curls from her up-do in the process.

"No, no, it's fine, it's _fine_ ," Bobby promises, pulling her out of Kurt's clumsy reach and in front of a mirror. "Just...leave it alone. Stop _. Touching_!"

Rogue stops messing with the veil and stares at herself. Bobby hadn't fibbed, her hair looks _good_ , a little more worn-in, but not the disaster she'd feared. In fact...

_She_ looks good.

Like a bride.

She certainly feels like one, like the surreality is finally sticking to her like _reality._

With the veil in place, the earrings dangling near to her shoulders, her bridesmen fussing over her, fluffing this and that, and—

" _Hi-ho, hi-ho_! _She's a bride, she's not a hoe_!"

Rogue startles at the loud, obnoxiously off-key singing to find herself swept up and waltzing around the room by none other than Wade Wilson.

"Hi, Anna-banana," he grins wide, "look at you, all grown up and getting married...without me? My _feelings_ —"

Rogue giggles— _giggles_! —and stops them. "Well, shug, I didn't exactly have time to send out invitations—"

"This is his fault, isn't it? Remy made sure I wasn't on the guest list, didn't he? After all those times I saved his sorry life? _Rude_."

"Um, does accepting bribes to not kill him count as saving his life?" Bobby is heard loudly asking Kurt.

"It doesn't," Rogue cuts in with a meaningful look at Wade. It still nettles her that he keeps accepting hits on Remy and then coolly charges him three times the price of the contract to not kill him.

Of course, there is the fact that in doing so, he actually _is_ saving her man's life, but that's beside the point. Remy paying off the jackass into the millions is unnecessary, in her opinion.

Wade shrugs. "Fine. But this will." He peels off one of her gloves, and is already reaching for the other—

" _Hey_! I don't even begin to think so!" She squawks at him, snatching her glove out of his hand. "Knockin' my husband out cold before I can even marry him ain't exactly savin' him—"

Wade rolls his eyes and pulls at the fingertips of her glove and sliding it right back off. "I got you covered, Roguey-roo. Don't we, Kurt?"

Rogue throws her brother a questioning look just as he asks, "we do?"

Wade sighs dramatically. "Come _on_ , Kurt, you're a bridesman. You're supposed to be on top of these things, so keep up. One job, I swear..." he mutters, reaching into his pocket. "Ta-dah! I got you something new, my lil' Southern belle."

Rogue's eyes are already snagged on the slim, pale gold collar in his hands, frozen still as a statue.

"Uh, Wade, I think you missed your mark here—"

"Shush, ice, ice baby," Wade interrupts, holding the nullifier up to Rogue. "Look, I know you don't have good memories of these, but...those were the old ugly ones, and this one of the newer, prettier ones." He points to a tiny, nearly invisible clasp. "See this? It works differently, it's easy to take off, and this way you and Remy could...you know..." He trails off, making the universal crude gesture for sex with his fingers, adding in a dramatic whisper everyone in the room hears, " _bareback_."

Rogue snorts at him, then takes the choker, traces a fingertip along the minimalistic design as it narrows into a sleek, subtle clasping mechanism in the back. A light press, and it unlocks easily as promised.

Rogue sucks in her lips and slowly rolls them back out. Wade's right, in that she has no fond memories of power suppression devices, though he doesn't know the full extent of why.

Remy does. He'd known before she'd told him, and he'd likely punch anyone else in the nose if they'd suggested she wear one for him.

Actually, no, he'd definitely punch Wade. He wouldn't even need much of a reason, either.

"Look at it this way. It's gold like the earrings, and going with that green dress— god, only _you_ would get married in _green_ , we really need to talk about this obsession yours, you know I look terrible next to fucking green, and that's not going to make me look all that pretty walking you down the aisle, but hey, you know what, that works, keeps me from upstaging the bride, _I_ _see what you did here_ , you clever minx —it's almost like you're wearing that hot as fuck green and yellow get-up he fapped to for years. _What_?" He turns at Kurt's groan, "you know he did. I know he did. I know I did."

" _Wade—"_

"And it's also something new, in that it's a new beginning. Clean slate. You bust down and forget all the bad you know these things for, and go create new ones with me. I mean Remy. What? I did. I meant Remy. Slip of the tongue, I promise. Though I wouldn't mind slipping—"

"Wade, I _swear_ ," Rogue huffs at him, then looks back at the collar.

_New beginnings_... _new memories_... _bust down all the bad, and forget about it_...

She feels her chin start wobbling and the tears spring up again, because that's been her and Remy every second of every day since they'd rekindled and caught like wildfire in Paraiso.

"Of course, if you want to be difficult, and _not_ fuck your new husband naked, I can't really blame you. I have an alternate something new," he pulls out an unopened condom packet, "that'll save his life."

Rogue gasps out a laugh, tears streaming her mascara. "I hate you, Wade," she sniffles, dabbing at her eyes, "you _ruined_ my make-up. Now, out—"

"Oooh, I can fix that. And you really should've used waterproof mascara. I have this stuff called Better Than Sex, and it's waterproof—"

"I ain't gonna ask why it is you're cartin' around a tube of waterproof Better Than Sex mascara—"

"Neither will we—"

"Nu-uh, nope. No questions—"

"God, you little piss ants act like no other man ever has worn mascara. Your precious Bras Pitts and Ryan Reynolds of the world wear that shit all the time for a living—"

" _Wade, shut up for one cotton pickin' minute, huh_?" Rogue yells over the noise, tears completely forgotten for irritation, because dammit, she has _work_ to do, her stupid face is running, as Bobby had so indelicately commented on before, and—

"So what's it gonna be, Miss Ma'am? Nakey-nakey sexy fun time with the new collar, or prudy-prudy covered up not fun sex with a new condom? I can tell you which he would prefer—"

" _Oh my god_ , I'm tryin' to kick y'all out, 'cause yes, I'm wearin' the collar, which makes somethings old, new, and borrowed, and I got this real pretty, lacy pair of blue panties I'm gonna wear for tonight, so unless y'all wanna see that—"

"Okay, boys, lets go," Kurt quickly chimes in, and before Wade can make a peep, he grabs hands and teleports out.

Rogue wastes no time, mad-dashing for her panty drawer. A quick change of underwear, a few more minutes spent fixing her eyes, and she's done, standing in front of the mirror, gloves off, her elegant up-do now a little messy and with a crooked-set, crimped all to hell, stinky veil, wearing green and gold, clad in all the somethings her best friends had so thoughtfully scrambled up just for her, so she could marry that blasted Cajun last second at a jilted wedding...

She starts smiling and doesn't stop til her face is split in half and every muscle in her face is aching, and then she laughs, because even though this isn't a _thing_ like how she'd ever have done it _planned_ , she thinks this, as it is, done on impulse and far from perfect, is...

Well...

_Perfect_ , actually.

* * *

Remy stands at the alter, Stormy just to his left, calm and serene as always, and Laura next to her, preternaturally still, waiting on his Anna (as per usual), and ruthlessly squelches down the urge to fidget. He's always had the itch to move, especially when running on pure nerves, and it'd taken some brutal lessons and channeling techniques back in the day to train it out of him. He falls back on that discipline now, schooling himself still but for hands clasped in front of him, fingers worrying the rings.

The rings, solid rock, both of them, and surprisingly light weight. Bling had spared no skill or talent in creating them, and he'd spared no thought or imagination in describing what he'd wanted. A smart, sleek, black band with a small gypsy set diamond for him, and a nearly three carat cushion-cut diamond wrought up from a delicate, sparkly band for her.

He smiles a bit, fingering the stones, hoping like all hell she likes hers. He'd toyed with the idea before of gauging her tastes first, when he'd figured on having time to do little things like that, but with tonight being so spur of the moment...

At least he'd had the foresight to note her ring size, so there's that going for him.

He feels another urge to fidget and wiggles his toes in his shoes instead. He was calm when he'd proposed, but now...

He hopes his impulsive ass hasn't just cheated her out her dream wedding or some shit.

Actually, he's hoping like all fuck, about to start praying to every known god out there, that she hadn't pulled a Kitty and gotten cold feet on him, because _goddamn_ , where _is_ she—

"Remy," Laura whispers at him, "she'll be here." She taps the side of her nose. "I can smell her perfume. Orange blossoms. She's coming."

Remy flashes her a smile, eyes already trained up the aisle, and sure enough, the music starts up.

He sucks in a breath he can't quite let go of, curling his hand around the rings, excitement racing through him from tip to toe and back again. First, Bobby comes around the back of the crowd, beaming, a bouquet in hand, and clearly the maid of honor (Remy can't help smiling at that, because Anna _would_ choose men for her party), followed by Kurt, who flashes him a fangy smile on his way opposite Laura.

A shift in music and a collection of _oohs_ and _ahhhs_ going to gasps and laughs turns him back to the aisle, and he looks back to see _her_ walking down the aisle—

With fucking _Wade Wilson_?

His breath bursts out in a short, low laugh, nerves settling with humor as Wade prances like he's the fucking bride himself, tripping on Anna's dress in the process. She yanks her dress out from under his foot, hissing at him all the while. Righting herself and her escort, she looks up to Remy's eyes, her face splitting into an absolutely mind-numbing smile, and for Remy, the world dims off but for the woman meeting him at the end of the aisle.

_Dieu_ , she's beautiful. Not just that, but extraordinary, one in a million. Amazing. Hard-headed, strong, smart-mouthed, temperamental, and the absolute best he's ever had of anyone he's ever known, any way he's ever had them.

And by some insane stroke of good grace and luck, about to be his _wife_.

She steps up, and Wade hands her off with a yelled whisper, "thank me for the collar later, coon-ass," at which Anna sharply elbows him in the ribs and spits at him to go sit down.

Remy takes her hands, pulls her in closer, eyes flicking from the nullifier up to brilliant, sun-shot eyes. "A collar, chere?"

She flushes and shrugs. "Figured maybe I'd like to kiss the groom after this is all said and done, and I'd rather not knock ya out flat on the ground when I do it, either."

He stares at her, this incredible woman before him, his fiancé of less than an hour, standing up here to marry him in a collar just so he can kiss her...

He knows why she hates the damn things. He'd taken that particular trip down her memory lane with Xavier, had seen Genosha, had helplessly watched, _felt_ what had happened to her there. He'd never once asked her to where a collar for him, and seeing that bullshit had instantly and savagely squelched any consideration he'd had on that score.

And yet, here she is, wearing one...

His breath gets lodged in his throat again, because fuck him, she's knocked him off his feet yet _again_ tonight, and honestly, he isn't sure how the hell he's managed it, but he's pretty certain he loves her just a bit more now than he had a moment ago.

"Well, this is certainly one of the most unconventional weddings I've participated in," the rabbi begins with a lopsided smile, "you said the two of you had vows you'd like to exchange?"

Vows? Nah, vows are promises, and Remy's never been too good at keeping those. If he doesn't make one, he can't break it, and he's not in it to break even one more to her.

Remy squeezes Anna's fingers and smiles at her, eyes burning and forgetting rest of the world to zero in on _her_. "For me, it ain't so much a vow as it is an affirmation," he begins, gathering her hands in a firmer clasp as he continues, "I love you wit' every piece of me, Anna-Marie. I ain't always been a good man, chere. But you and me, we've been through hell and back, and it's changed me. _You_ changed me. You saw in me the man I hope I am. And that's what I'm gonna be, that man who's always worthy of your love and respect."

He watches those impossible eyes glitter up with tears as he slips the ring on her finger, and hands her his for her turn. She sniffles loudly, earning several _d'awwwww_ s from their guests and a few laughs, too.

"Remy," she starts out, her voice only a tad thick, "we've been through so much, you and I. We faced so many challenges, so many moments other couples just wouldn't ever be able to come back from." She sniffs again, pausing to regain her composure, "but we always keep findin' ways back to each other. And that's what I promise you..." her voice wobbles and cracks, tears finally spilling down her blotching cheeks as she slides him his ring and smiles up at him, "that no matter what, I'll _always_ find my way back to you, Remy LeBeau."

"Beautiful," the rabbi happily declares, and she starts saying something else, but honestly, Remy's focus sharpens back in on Anna-Marie, tuning everything else down to only half an ear, and—"introduce Anna-Marie and Remy LeBeau as husband and wife!"

Snapped back out, Remy smiles at his wife— holy shit, she's his _wife_! —and leans in, cups her face in one hand, laces fingers of the other through hers, and pulls her in flush to his front as he kisses her. Kisses her slow, deep, and sweet, his eyes closing, his—

"Well, I'd say kiss the bride, but I'd also say that it's unnecessary," the rabbi teases, and the guests laugh and start clapping.

"Awwww, look! He popped his foot! God, how romantic is _that_ ," Jubilee can be heard gushing from the seats. "And I told every one of you, by the way, called this _years_ ago..."

Anna giggles against his mouth, and he nips at her lips as they break away. "You _totally_ popped your foot, sugar." She reaches back up for another kiss, making his head spin a little harder. _His wife_... "Such a romantic," she murmurs over his lower lip, "you went and popped your foot in a kiss you couldn't even wait on the go-ahead to give."

He snorts and gives her a solid lipsmack to the bridge of her nose. "Been waitin' my whole damn life for that kiss, and I didn't even know it til today. The hell makes y' think I be waitin' on anymore of 'em, chere?"

 


End file.
